Narn-in-Yrn: Tale of the Large Trees
by Noldesse
Summary: Legolas uncovers a long forgotten legend. Written for 2011 July Teitho challenge. Inspired by my series but is stand-alone.


Story and Author Notes:

Written for Teitho's 2011 July challenge. This was inspired by the legend I created in my story, _Ancient Wounds_. Beta is Phyncke. Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien; the rest is my creation. Text borrowed from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ movie and _The Two Towers_ book. First song used entitled _The Voice_ by Celtic Woman. The website _Council of Elrond_ referenced for use of Elvish and _The Song of the Ent and Entwife_, the last song.

**Narn-in-Yrn: Tale of the Large Trees**

"So, you are to leave in the morning?"

Legolas turned around quickly to find himself face to face with the source of the velvety voice. The owner smiled somberly at him, if but a little sadly. Her gray eyes seemed misty, and the Prince wagered he knew the reason. She was clad in green and brown, the shirt tied in a knot at her waist, while the tight-fitting leggings accentuated her hips. Her red-brown, waist-length hair was highlighted with gold. She appeared to be a timid _elleth_ (elf maiden), but Legolas knew her to possess the strength of a Noldo warrior. Vanimë, whose name meant _beautiful_ in Quenya, held a fresh wildflower bouquet in one hand, while the other held something wrapped. It looked like a book, which did not surprise the Prince. He had seen her many times with tomes; his former foster mother loved to read, and passed this love onto him.

"I am set to leave in the morning," he replied as she came to his side, leaning carefully against a birch tree, eyes closed, head tilted to one side as if listening to a voice she could only hear.

"As am I; my time here is over," she said slowly, almost in a whisper, her tone sad.

"He has wronged you; he had no right to do what he did," Legolas said, his voice passionate.

Vanimë did not open her eyes as she responded, "I lied to your father about my heritage, that I am a daughter of Caranthir, son of Fëanor. He has suffered much because of what was done. How was I to know I would not bring that Doom with me? I placed your people, and your father, in jeopardy. I lied—I betrayed—his trust, his love. I deserve this; I do not hate him."

"But you redeemed yourself; you returned and saved the kingdom from its internal decay, roused my father from his stupor and gathered the people behind him. You admitted to everyone who you are…and they still love you! How can you accept this treatment from him?"

The Noldo opened her eyes then.

"It was what I should have done a long time before, not hide behind the lie I tried to live. I do not blame him; I have reaped what I have sown. But come let us not talk of this. We both depart in the morning; let us enjoy each other's company amidst the Spirit Trees. I have always loved this glade, it fills me with the serenity and strength I need. Can you not feel the life of the trees here?" she said, moving to stand beside him and nestling her face in his shoulder.

Legolas took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, feeling the tension dissipate. He felt himself relax, even though inwardly he was still angry. He closed his eyes for a minute then opened them, forcing himself to enjoy the waning evening with Vanimë. How he loved her! When he reopened his eyes, he had to gasp at the beautiful scene before him.

It was a very mystical place, this glade, filled with an invisible, spiritual, power. The trees were older, wilder, resonating of the true forest of Eryn Galen. He could understand when he was in this place why Vanimë's sister adamantly refused to leave Fangorn. The ancient forests of Middle-earth had a certain aura of magic about them, making it difficult to resist the call of the trees. Here, the trees grew very tall and sturdy along both sides of the stream. The waters were so clear that Legolas could see the tiny fish swimming below its surface. High above the two Elves, the tree boughs entwined, forming a canopy of emerald and dark amber, stretching far back to the small cascade. The evening sunlight filtered down between the leaves. The branches were entwined in such a manner that to Legolas it seemed the trees were reaching out to the Sun in silent prayer. And it was between this intricate weaving of branches that the sunlight filtered down, bathing Legolas and Vanimë in gold. He heard the sound of the gurgling stream cascading over its stony bed, a small tributary of the river. With a content sigh, he reached out to the closest tree, a slender birch, and placed his palm on its trunk.

_The world has changed. I feel it in the water; I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for few now live who remember it. And even fewer who live now care to hear it. It is the wont of the young to think only of the future, seemingly oblivious that it is the past that brought them to where they are now. But I cannot hold this against them, for there is much to celebrate now, with the final defeat of the Shadow, and even the heart of the forest itself rejoices. Even so, I feel myself so very weary; this defeat has come at a cost. I am no longer the young being I was almost one and a half Ages ago, and the world hardly recalls me and my kin. We have faded into the past, a past so glorious and so bittersweet. Even our beloved ones have forgotten us as we have forgotten ourselves, so that we can hardly recognize one another. And as we fade ever further into the darkness of our grief, we cling to what we once were—Entwives._

Legolas removed his palm quickly from the tree. Beside him, Vanimë smiled wanly at him. The surprise was etched vividly in his expression, and the way his sapphire eyes flashed. She held up the book she was carrying in her hand, adding to Legolas' confusion.

"You heard her voice. She has almost faded…you must listen to her. And when she despairs once more, bring her back. I know you can do this," Vanimë said, handing him the book. "Your people, the _Tawarwaith_ (Silvan Elves), have a connection with ancient powers that is unique."

She left him then. Legolas felt very bemused. Who was this "she"? Who had spoken to him? What was he required to do? All these questions and many more filled his head. The only thing left with him was the book the Noldo had given him, and so he turned his attention to it, removing the wrappings. It was very old, the cover tattered, with missing pages and faded words. It smelled as ancient as it looked, musty and dank. It was leather-bound, with a picture of a forest, not unlike that of Eryn Lasgalen on the cover. He opened it to the first few pages, which were filled with illustrations. He skipped through to the end, where an entire section was divided off with two pieces of felt. This concerned the Nandor, predecessors of Eryn Lasgalen's Silvan natives, who were also known as the Tawarwaith. Their unique history was recounted in great detail. The end of this section was devoted to their legends.

Holding the book securely, Legolas read aloud from a passage: "…_all Tawarwaith (Silvans) hold the spirit world and nature at high authority, but perhaps to the people of Greenwood their trees are more precious to them than any gems. Many legends and tales these quaint people have, but there is none more potent than the Narn-in-Yrn (Tale of the Large Trees)_…"

A voice penetrated his mind then, the same velvety one that had startled him before, saying now: "There will come a time when you will lose hope in Ithilien, when you wish to return home. But what is home, except where the heart lives? Tell me, my dear child, where does your heart live?"

"The forest, amongst the green leaves and boughs of the trees," he replied.

"Yes, my little Green Leaf, your home is the forest. The book will show you the way."

He turned his attention once more to the ancient book. The left page held a finely drawn illustration depicting feminine tree beings, with Elves gathered about them. In the background Legolas detected the way the boughs were entwined, and something vaguely familiar began to nag at his mind. He glanced upward to see the same boughs as in the picture. A much smaller illustration depicted more of these trees in a field with Men this time, engaged in various agricultural activities. A small caption read Beornings. Underneath this was a short passage, "…_the Beornings recall tales of old when the Large Trees would walk their lands, tending to their fields and gardens, teaching them the art of caring for the earth and its living inhabitants…now they mourn the loss of their revered mentors_…"

On the opposite page was a more lengthy passage referring to the picture with the Elves in it. There was extensive detail about the types of trees and Entwives; the leader was said to be called Fimbrethil and was a birch. Her beloved was Fangorn, whom Legolas had met. The exact arrival of these Great Trees was not listed, only that they appeared sometime at end of the Second Age, or early Third Age. Greedily he skimmed the passage for more information. At the very end he read: "…_overcome with their grief and losses, the Trees partook in the Silvans' merrymaking less and less, instead occupying themselves with mourning. They withdrew to a central location around the palace, unable to wholly withdraw from contact with the Tawarwaith. It is said that only a grief as strong and akin to theirs will awaken them, by one who has woken them before_."

The only other relevant information he could find spoke of: "_an immensely daunting presence at the periphery of the palace, a place of great and formidable power. Any who venture there do so unconsciously and in times of great need. They find their spirits revived, courage restored, and strength renewed. Over the period of the late Second to early Third Ages this place has become hallowed, though now is a lonely desolate place. Once it was alive with merriment. Few venture there now, and those who do, are unaware of the power it holds_."

He closed the book, his mind recalling words his Noldo foster mother spoke, "…I have always loved this place, it has always filled me with the serenity and strength I have needed. Can you not feel the life of the trees here?" What Vanimë said corresponded to what he read. The picture of Fimbrethil very closely resembled the tree he had touched, only she seemed more weary. Could it be…? That would explain the strangely weak voice he heard in his mind. What did Vanimë mean when she said he would lose hope in Ithilien, that the forest was his answer? And how would the book show him the way? He leaned against the tree, eyes closed, trying to knead the anxiety and frustration that mounted in his temples. The eerie voice began again.

_I was woken so very long ago by the first of the Elves. Fimbrethil I was called. They wanted to talk to everything then, so green they were, like new growth on boughs. How I recall their voices, like sweet birds warbling, and the gleam of their bright eyes when I was roused. They told me their names first, and one by one I committed them to memory…all are forgotten now save for one. She did not forget us; she came to search for us. Lady Forfirith has always been the one to understand our pain. She did not mind the darkness of our home, Fangorn. Once we mastered the lists of names, except for Forfirith, the Elves left us. I think I recall how the lists went:_

Learn now the lore of the Living Creatures! First name the four, the free peoples:  
Eldest of all, the elf-children;  
Dwarf the delver, dark are his houses;  
Ent the earthborn; old as mountains;  
Man the mortal, master of horses…

_Forfirith lingered, teaching us the lists, adding names. As the years passed, she became our silent sentinel, caring for us more than for herself. She had woken me and my sisters with her woeful tale and vowed never to let us return to sleep…yet here we are, ready for slumber. She has gone, woken us a final time only to leave us as all the others have done. I do not blame her only, my sisters and I are not without fault…_

_After we arose, we met others of our kind, other Ents. We came to understand our part, that we were given the charge of caring for trees and living plants. We were made stewards of Middle-earth, shepherds of the forests for Lady Kelementari. We were paired; each Entwife with a husband, an Ent. My beloved was Fangorn. Then was the time of the Entings. It was all a young new world, full of love and happiness. Many an endless day and night I spent in the company of Fangorn, though we had no Entings we were still happy. We would wander all throughout the lands together, and not see another of our kind for several months. But we did not care, so long as we had each other we were content._

_We were all shepherds, the Ents and Entwives both. Yet we were different. Even from the very beginning we Entwives maintained control over living plants, while the Ents just watched their charges. We desired order and stability; while they would not interfere. We wanted to create. We would oftentimes make gardens of our own creation, and the Ents would visit us. Yet they would always leave. After some time we established Gardens to live in, while the Ents preferred to wander. Very beautiful the Gardens were. So many colors! Reds, purples, yellows, blues…and green. Not just flowers and other plants, but things Elves and Men could eat: corn, squash, and potatoes. We designed patterns, terraces, raised plots…there were even streams running through our fields. We tended to the earth and were richly rewarded. We taught those who wished to learn our craft. When the Ents would visited they marveled at what we did, but could not understand our desire to control our charges. We missed them when they left, but our hearts were in our Gardens; they were a part of us. They were like Entings to us._

_As our happiness increased, and our Gardens multiplied, so did the Darkness. The Ents warned us, encouraged us to leave our home and wander with them. They were afraid of separation, afraid of what would happen to us if we lost our Gardens. They knew how much we loved our tilled spaces, that our souls were intertwined with our home. We felt the evil stirring then, felt it in the earth, the air, and the water. It was what made the Sun appear to shine less brightly, and for its warmth to diminish. It was the whisper on the wind each evening. We were proud, thinking we would not be affected. Our Gardens were far away, safe. Who would destroy such beauty?_

_It was a gray day; the Sun hid behind clouds. We rejoiced, thinking it would rain. Our Gardens needed to drink. The Ents had not visited us in a long time. The wind whipped about through the fields, carrying the dirt high into the air and turning it into a veil of dust. It was hazy and we could not hear well because of the wailing wind. Some of my sisters thought they heard it warn us. WE felt trepidation, but we kept on working in our Gardens. It was not until the following morning, when the haziness and gloom persisted, that we knew something was very wrong. It started with the earth shaking, subtle at first, then becoming quite visible. Rifts began to open up, swallowing our Gardens and some of my sisters along with it. The skies heaved, and forks of lightning danced through the fields, sometimes hitting an Entwife. The smell of burnt bark, combined with the screams, was too much for me. I remember calling out to everyone, but my voice was lost in the fury. It could not become any darker…but then they came…the burárum, (Orcs). They came like a plague of black beetles upon our Gardens, cutting down anything green and good in their path. Our lush and beautiful Gardens quickly became barren, fiery pyres. Many a fine Entwife was lost. Almost two Ages' worth of work was lost in the course of one day._

_The pain and humiliation was too much. So we fled; only twelve of us survived that accursed day. We did not know where to go, but we did not wish to meet any of the Ents. Our shame was unbearable. We had failed, had fallen as helplessly before the wrath of Sauron as a leaf from a bough is tossed and turned in the wind. So we fled north, into the great forest of Eryn Galen. To be amongst the green boughs and leaves of this forest was a welcome respite for our souls, and for awhile we lingered in the southern region. We passed some time with the Men of that region, the Beornings, teaching them how to care for the earth, and for a time we forgot our troubles. King Oropher heard of our arrival, and after listening to our tale he wept in pity for our loss. To honor us, he made the birch tree his kingdom's official seal, and the sign of his House. Some of his people stayed to hear our many tales, and we welcomed this attention. We built new gardens, albeit much smaller, but for us they were what we needed. The Ents have never been hasty folk._

_We stayed a few years until the Shadow grew in Amon Lanc. Thranduil, son of Oropher, moved his people deeper into the forest for their safety and it was time for my remaining sisters and me to go. We left our new gardens to the Beornings, and we felt our hearts break anew. With the return of the Shadow came the renewal of our fear and humiliation. The Second Age ended with the death of Oropher in the Last Alliance. We were frightened, the last band of the Entwives, and we had no hope left. We feared the Ents would find us and scorn our losses. We became less and less involved with the Silvan Elves, and more and more inclined to withdraw within ourselves. Thranduil would walk among us at times, but the many troubles of his realm took him away. A century passed and no one came to see us. We withdrew to a hidden location near to the underground cavern that was Thranduil's stronghold. Slowly, we slipped into a slumber, though not so deep as before we were awoken—we could still hear the voices of the Elves as they came to our sanctuary, asking and praying for strength. From our hearts we did pity them, and we tried to reach into their spirits, so that when they left our glade they were renewed with the courage and will they needed. But as the years grew, and the troubles of the world increased, we were forgotten, and seldom did anyone come to us._

_She did not forget us, though…our Lady awoke us for the last time. We sensed the world was at war again, and we trembled, remembering the last battle that robbed us of our most precious thing—our Gardens. Deep in our hearts we hated the Orcs, cursed them, weeping at our own weakness and loss. What could we do? We were no longer true Entwives, we were almost trees, mute and powerless. It took us a very long time to say our names out loud to one another. How could we avenge the wrongs done to us?_

_As if in a dream, she came to us. It was the darkest day we had ever seen. There was mist everywhere. The night before we witnessed Thranduil's people rally behind their King, ready to go give their lives in defense of their home. They were gone now, to fight the Black Army of Dol Guldur. Everything was still and silent; the quiet was so deafening and very unnatural. Then she came, with another maiden. This second maiden wept, and our Lady tried to comfort her. She had not changed over the Ages, only that now she was more somber, and a hint of excitement lit up her gray eyes. She gazed around at her, at us, in awe. Then she sang the Waking Song of the Trees, her voice just as soft and sweet as the first time:_

_I hear your voice on the wind_  
_And I hear you call out my name_

_"Listen, my child," you say to me_  
_"I am the voice of your history_  
_Be not afraid, come follow me_  
_Answer my call, and I'll set you free"_

_I am the voice in the wind_  
_and the pouring rain_  
_I am the voice of your hunger and pain_  
_I am the voice that always is calling you_  
_I am the voice, I will remain_

_I am the voice in the fields_  
_when the summer's gone_  
_The dance of the leaves_  
_when the autumn winds blow_  
_Ne'er do I sleep throughout_  
_all the cold winter long_

_I am the force_  
_that in springtime will grow_

_I am the voice of the past_  
_that will always be_  
_Filled with my sorrow and blood_  
_in my fields_  
_I am the voice of the future,_  
_bring me your peace_  
_Bring me your peace,_  
_and my wounds, they will heal..._

_I am the voice in the wind_  
_and the pouring rain_  
_I am the voice of your hunger and pain_  
_I am the voice that always is calling you_  
_I am the voice_

_I am the voice of the past_  
_that will always be_  
_I am the voice of your hunger and pain_  
_I am the voice of the future_  
_I am the voice, I am the voice_  
_I am the voice, I am the voice_

_She sang it again, accompanied by the maiden. We saw into her heart, saw all that she had suffered—she had been violated by a group of Orcs, resulting in the death of her unborn child. Every emotion she felt we understood: pain, anger, shame, and humiliation. And the picture of our Gardens, so tender and innocent as her babe, came into our minds. And we felt enraged that one as young as this maiden should lose her defenseless child. Our thoughts became sounds, our sounds words, and before we knew it we had awoken, angry and ready to unleash our wrath. Our Lady Forfirith had found us, brought us out of our sleep, and back into a purpose. She had told us so many eons ago that we would suffer a terrible loss, and in our grief we would hide, but in the end we would be roused once more by a tale as chilling as ours, and we would know our revenge. She had not lied; for we fought alongside Thranduil, fulfilling our oath to his sire, and fulfilling our own revenge. At long last, after an Age, we had our victory; we avenged the loss of our Gardens, and the maiden's child._

_And now we have lost purpose again…what does the world need us for now? We are only legend to those who can even recall the time we walked Middle-Earth. Our Lady lingers, and tries to coax us awake again, but what can we offer? The Elves will leave this shore, and the Men care not for the ancient ones. The Ents…do they yet live? Two major wars have now been fought; did they survive them both? It has been far too long since last we saw them. Would they even remember us if they have survive, accept us? We were too proud in the older days. No, no one recalls us, no one wants us. We are useless…and so we will sleep forevermore…_

The voice faded. Legolas' palm was still pressed firmly against the tree trunk, but Fimbrethil did not speak again. There was no denial that this was an Entwife. It delighted him that he had found such an ancient power, the beloved of Fangorn no less! He pressed his palm harder against the bark. She did not speak into his mind again.

Again, the words of Vanimë resonated within his thoughts:

_"There will come a time when you will lose hope in Ithilien, when you wish to return home. But what is home, except where the heart lives? Tell me, my dear child, where does your heart live?"_

"The forest, amongst the green leaves and boughs of the trees."

"Yes, my little Green Leaf, your home is the forest. The book will show you the way."

He raised his head slowly, understanding everything at last. Vanimë had known of the Entwives; her sister Forfirith undoubtedly shared everything with her. He had expressed to her his anxiety about the large task of rebuilding Ithilien and his sadness at leaving his home. Eryn Lasgalen was burnt and ruined from Dol Guldur's army; yet the forest would heal itself in time. But what of Ithilien, who would have the knowledge to rebuild an entire countryside from bare earth?

"Fimbrethil, it is I, Legolas, son of Thranduil. I have heard your tale, and my heart weeps for you but you must not fade, not yet, not ever. The world needs you; it is a time of healing now. There is much hurt, many forests that have been burned, land that needs your care. The Men will have no one to look to…I will have no one to guide me. I need your help to rebuild Ithilien, to make it into a haven for my people, so we can pass it onto the mortals when we leave these shores. It was not your fault that you lost your Gardens, but you should not fear any longer. Sauron has been defeated, evil has been vanquished. Ithilien lies in ruin, and I need your help to restore it to its former glory," Legolas said, tears running down his fair face. "You are not forgotten. I have seen Fangorn myself, and he misses you dearly. After the destruction of the Gardens the Ents went searching for you, calling you by your names, but you were gone, and they never found you. I cannot tell you how lonely he is, and how he wishes you were there by his side."

There was a rustle of leaves, and a few drops of dew fell from above.

"Fimbrethil…I beg you, you are needed so very desperately now. But if you choose to fade, then you will have robbed the world of something too beautiful and powerful never be replaced again. The world needs beautiful Gardens now, the earth needs to be fed and watered so it can reproduce all the wonderful things you have spoken of. I am going now. If you wish to aid me, I will be at the palace gates at sunrise, ready to take leave for Ithilien."

Vanimë stepped out from behind the tree, picking up the book Legolas had left there. She smiled to herself as the boughs of the trees in the sanctuary glade swayed back and forth, almost as if in a dance. Her sister's efforts had not been in vain; the Entwives were not lost. The legends of old once more would be alive. The hurts of the earth would be healed, beginning in Ithilien. Vanimë smiled, shedding a few tears of joy, calling out to her sister in her mind, saying, "It has begun."

* * *

Fifty years passed; Legolas was now Lord of Ithilien. It was another serene evening, such as the one when he left Eryn Lasgalen. The progress of the rebuilding was evident; where once barren rock and dead trees had been there now grew green grass, young saplings, and flowers of every color. The hillsides surrounding the city burst in floral shades of purple, pink, red, and white. Down on the plains were the crop fields: corn, potatoes, beans, tomatoes. Orchards lined the paths, laden with fruits of all kinds. Both Entwives and mortal Men, women and men alike, worked the fields. None were as happy and content as the Entwives, who could be heard singing their ancient songs in their eerie voices. They swayed back and forth in a dance only they knew.

"You have done well," Thranduil said, sipping fresh apple cider.

"Indeed you have."

Both Elves rose as Vanimë approached slowly, arms spread out behind her, head tilted as she focused on the singing of the Entwives. Behind her came a lady bearing a strong resemblance to her. This was her sister. She held a lute in her hands, and hummed along to the song Fimbrethil just finished, strumming the strings casually.

"I present to you my sister Forfirith," Vanimë said.

The two males bowed.

"I also congratulate your efforts, Lord Legolas; you have indeed done a wonderful thing here in Ithilien. I am most thankful for your efforts with Fimbrethil and her sisters," Forfirith said.

"_Le hannon_ (thank you). I only did what I could; they took the steps here," Legolas said.

"You truly cannot understand what this means to me, to the Entwives…and to _them_," she added.

Legolas followed the direction of her gaze: far up on the hill stood a group of figures, casting their long shadows down upon them. Beside him, Vanimë sharply inhaled her breath. Thranduil rose to his feet to see the newcomers. His handsome face broke into a broad smile. Forfirith began to play a song. Thranduil grabbed Vanimë by the waist, leading her towards the Entwives, whispering into her ear, "Let us dance, shall we," to which she nodded happily. From their places Legolas and Forfirith began to sing, accompanied by the lute.

_Legolas, as ENT: When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough;  
When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow;  
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air,  
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!_

Forfirith, as ENTWIFE: When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade;  
When blossom like a shining snow is on the orchard laid;  
When shower and Sun upon the Earth with fragrance fill the air,  
I'll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair.

Legolas, as ENT: When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold  
Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold:  
When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West,  
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!

Forfirith, as ENTWIFE: When Summer warms the hanging fruits and burns the berry brown;  
When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town:  
When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West,  
I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best!

Legolas, as ENT: When Winter comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay  
When trees shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day;  
When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain  
I'll look for thee, and call to thee; I'll come to thee again!

Forfirith, as ENTWIFE: When Winter comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last;  
When broken is the barren bough, and light and labour past;  
I'll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again;  
Together we will take the road beneath the bitter rain!

Legolas and Forfirith, as BOTH: Together we will take the road that leads into the West,  
And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest.

Long after the Men left, Ents and Entwives danced amidst the fields, arms interlocked, as Legolas and Forfirith sang to them their song, first sung so long ago, when Middle-Earth was still young and perfect, unmarred by wars of the ages. Thranduil and Vanimë disappeared into the hills together, and Legolas reasoned they would not return. It seemed to him that tonight old hurts were being resolved and healed. Ancient feuds had ended, powered by love. Legolas sensed his time in Ithilien was drawing to a close. King Elessar was slowly succumbing to the fate of Men. Legolas would leave these shores content that the Narn-in-Yrn was a living tale, not merely legend. He knew that Lady Kelementari's sentinels would guard their charges faithfully and lovingly, and would do so until the ending of Time.


End file.
